The Marshal of the Mark

by blue1cemoon

'Evil labours with vast power and perpetual success - in vain: preparing always only the soil for unexpected good to sprout in.' —Tolkien, Letter 64. Adrift in the wake of the War, Truva is tasked with discovering the whereabouts of the Blue Wizards — and the origin of her own identity in the process. Sequel to The Lady of the Rohirrim.

28. Blackbramble the Brave

Recommended listening: Reinecke — Symphony No. 2

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CHAPTER XXVIII: BLACKBRAMBLE THE BRAVE

The Alcarindur and her armada came upon the outer reaches of Pelargir in the grey light of early morn. There the company spied farms – the meagre spring harvest of which was uprooted – as well as riverbanks muddied and churned, and fishing boats absent from local docks. Yet there was no sign of the Southron vessels that had slipped past the Swan Fleet's defences in Harnen, nor were any villagers visible upon the shores, who might give word of what events had transpired along these reaches of Lebennin.

The mystery only deepened when scouts returned to report that, for all intents and purposes, Pelargir appeared very much in a similar state as the Gondorian sailors had left it some months ago: still bearing the scars of battle, but otherwise undisturbed – improved, perhaps, by the reconstruction that had been done in their short time away.

Yet when the city itself came into view, an eerie silence reigned; there was no hint of movement, no bustle of fishermen within its canals, no clang of baker's bell to signal fresh bread, no blathering of livestock at market. Not even the hint guardsmen could be spied upon its towers or battlements. Pelargir appeared wholly abandoned.

But when the Alcarindur drew near enough for its heraldry and passengers to be distinguished, a trumpet blared from a watchtower. The city leapt alive at once. With hearts racing – though the attack was not entirely unexpected – the crew of the Alcarindur assumed formation and steeled their hearts. They were met with no deadly offence, however, but a rush of Pelargirian longshoremen pouring onto the docks to guide the ships to port.

But the greatest surprise of all came when, from beneath archways in the largest paths of the city, or behind blinds hastily constructed in the fields, emerged the massive bulk of half a dozen oliphaunts, ears flapping gently as they assessed this new development.

The throngs upon the dock quickly parted as Minister Tinnedir came forward under Gondor's sable banner to greet the party, the Wizard Radagast at his side. A gangway was swiftly affixed to the Alcariundur and Aragorn alighted upon the docks, with Éomer, Bardlorn and all other commanders close behind.

'What is the meaning of this?' Aragorn asked of the Minister, indicating the oliphaunts. 'What happened here? Did you not fall under the assault of the Southron fleet?'

'It is equally astounding to us, my lord,' said the Minister. 'I think perhaps the Wizard might be more capable of explaining than I.'

All eyes turned to Radagast, who smiled hesitantly, unaccustomed to being so thick in the midst of events. 'Ah, well, it is – you see, we have been working for some time upon a road that allows swifter passage between Dol Amroth and Pelargir, through the hilly lands of Dor-en-Ernil.'

'"We" being the oliphaunts and a small group of labourers from Dol Amroth,' Tinnedir clarified.

'Just so,' said Ennebyn, the head keeper, who stood just beside the Wizard. 'Evenings are typically quite docile in the barn, for the oliphaunts are well-mannered and peaceful when cared for by a gentle hand; yet two days ago, they awoke deep in the night and fussed up a terrible ruckus, bowling down the wooden doors quite entirely and storming off into the night.'

'The keepers and I followed as best we could on horseback,' Radagast added, 'and though we were massively outpaced, the oliphaunts' tracks were not difficult to follow: they made directly over the developing trail and straight for Pelargir.'

'What a terrible fright we had, seeing such massive beasts charge the unprotected agriculture sector in the south!' exclaimed the Minister. 'Yet their gentle mien is well-known, and their purpose was clear: no sooner had the first fell sail appeared upon the Anduin than the oliphaunts proceeded to foil each of the Southrons' attempts to land, even as we struggled to mount the most basic of defences. After great destruction was wrought upon any Corsair vessel that dared draw near, the remaining fleet passed silently by.'

The gathered Pelargirians shuddered at the recollection of enemy dromunds gliding eerily upon the Anduin waters, the splash of paddles the only sound in the night.

'These are quite unusual circumstances,' Aragorn remarked.

'I can offer no further explanation, save that perhaps they had some sense of the Southrons' coming, and rushed to defend Pelargir against their old masters' hands,' said Radagast.

'Did they cause such a disturbance before the first Corsair assault upon the city?' asked Éomer.

'No, milord,' the Wizard replied. 'Though the road was not nearly so complete then, nor the danger so great – small as the attacking fleet was.'

Aragorn mulled silently for a moment. 'And now the Southrons aim for a deeper purchase: Harlond, or perhaps even Osgiliath. Pelargir was never their target nor destination.'

'My curiosity is acute with regard to how you came upon such knowledge,' said the Minister, 'though I am certain it is a long tale you have to tell of the south, and I trust you do not wish to tarry here, milords.'

'Verily,' said Éomer. 'I long to be gone even now; though it is no comment upon the welcome I find here, and rather my fervent urge to press on.'

'Following our departure, you might yet be visited by a second host,' Aragorn added. 'But whether it will be Swan Ships or black Southron dromunds, I cannot say.'

'We shall prepare for both,' said the Minister. 'As for your own ventures, our stores are in short supply as ever – yet we did succeed in stockpiling a small number of weapons and other resources. We will provide you with what little we can spare.'

Even as he spoke, a stream of longshoremen formed a line between dock and ship and began conveying bundles towards the Alcarindur.

'And vinegar?' Éomer inquired.

'Most certainly, my lord,' said Tinnedir. 'Though I do not think there was sufficient time for the process to complete, so its efficacy may be lessened somewhat.'

'We must make do with what is available to us,' said Aragorn, stepping in to aid the longshoreman alongside the other commanders. Their task soon completed – many hands and few supplies as there were – Aragorn stood upon the gangway of the Alcarindur, looking out across a host of Pelargirian faces whose concern read apparent.

'I will not demand that any Man accompany us,' said he. 'You have come under the violent hand of Corsairs once already, and in the meantime laboured with much effort to rebuild what they struck down. Before that, many of you battled upon Pelennor Fields, or before the very Black Gates themselves.

'Yet we find ourselves again beset upon by adversaries who seek to take advantage of our perceived weakness, whose fell deeds come wave upon wave, with the intent of wearing away at our resolve. If you can find the strength within yourself, I ask that you take up arms and sail northward with us, in a final defence of our homes and livelihoods.'

No rousing cheer greeted the King's speech – only a grim silence as many able-bodied warriors shuffled forward. They came with sword and bow, shield and helm; indeed, they had not been free of such items since the Southrons' reappearance, knowing what would ultimately be asked of them.

Aragorn stepped aside as they mounted the gangway with stony expression. 'For those who choose to stay,' he continued, 'know this: you have yet your part to play. It is in you that our greatest trust lies – for should our northern forces fail, the protection of this city and all the lands of Lebennin shall lie with you. Let us each serve his purpose with stout heart.'

At last these words evoked a tremendous roar from the crowd. A keen energy passed between the armada and those upon the docks; with wordless cries they echoed each other's tremulous encouragement as the Alcarindur took to sail once more.

The wharfs and battlements of Pelargir gradually disappeared around a bend in the Anduin, and the wooded hills of South Ithilien rose up along the eastern bank. Aragorn stood upon the portside bow, gazing out across the rich farms of Lossarnach, which had at last shaken off their snowy mantle and begun to unveil their emerald jewels of spring – though still there was an unseasonable sharpness in the air. He pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders just as Éomer approached and leaned against the bulwarks beside him. The two kings watched the passing scenery in silence for quite some time until Éomer could withstand it no longer.

'What do you suppose awaits us in the north?' he murmured.

'Death,' said Aragorn without hesitation. His unseeing eyes did not turn, his mouth did not waver from its grim line.

'I wish I could gainsay such desolate thought,' said Éomer, huffing a humourless chuckle, 'yet I fear I cannot. Even if death comes not for us, it will surely come for those under our command – which makes it all the worse.'

The two continued to stare off into the distance, allowing the quietude to bear unspoken significance between them a while, consumed by their own thoughts. Aragorn's turned to when he had last advanced up the Anduin on the eve of battle, when his unease over certain demise was tempered by a hope unlooked for. Now that he knew such hope had not been in vain – that a fierce warrior and circumspect leader loved him in return – a renewed determination roiled in his breast. He would not endure for so many years under the shadow of evil, only to be sundered from what little good had come of it.

Duty to his people was paramount, to be sure, and yet – and yet a small needle of personal desire had worked its way into his heart, redoubling his strength of will.

'I do not think the Southrons will allow Harlond to go untouched, as they did Pelargir,' he said to Éomer, turning at last to matters of practicality. 'It is too significant a position; he who holds the harbour controls southern access to Minas Tirith and Osgiliath.'

'And prevents military aid and supplies from coming in that direction,' Éomer added. 'But still I cannot fathom the Southrons' intentions. Even if they succeed in taking Harlond, surely they cannot expect to then besiege Mundburg; their numbers are great, but not so great as to maintain such an expansive position.'

'Perhaps they only seek to be a thorn in the lion's paw until we capitulate to their demands, or perhaps there are machinations we are yet unaware of; the Southrons are cunning, and have deceived us more than once in recent days – and the walls of Minas Tirith are still vulnerable following the War. That is my greatest cause for concern.'

'What of Osgiliath? Though my passage through that city for the birth of little Elboron was brief, it seemed great progress had been made in reconstructing its defences.'

'Therein lies our greatest hope,' said Aragorn with steely mien. 'Osgiliath was the focus of our strongest efforts to rebuild, having suffered the greatest damage during the War. It is still susceptible to attack, but we did not leave it wholly undefended; if the garrison holds until we can lend them succour, we might be so lucky as to see a less bloody victory.'

'Then there is yet one element in our favour: for in coming by ship, the Southrons will surely launch an assault upon Osgiliath before ever attempting to take the White City.'

Neither of the two Kings spoke of what would happen should Osgiliath fall; there was no purpose in doing so, save to invite despondency. Their path was laid clear before them – there would be no turning from it. With one last, despairing glance between them, Aragorn and Éomer went about their separate duties.

Not a hint of the enemy was spied throughout all the morning and afternoon, even as the Alcarindur came upon the outflow of Erui and the peaks of Ered Nimrais loomed taller in the distant northwest. Darkness overtook daylight. Sailors sat for their evening meal in terse silence or overzealous levity in equal parts – for each Man was accustomed to enduring the approach of battle in his own manner. When it came time to retire for the night, some slept soundly while others feigned the attempt; yet more simply abandoned all pretence of rest and found ways to keep themselves occupied during the long hours until dawn.

The first haze of day revealed the Gondorian fleet to have nearly gained the foot of Mindolluin, Harlond just out of sight behind the mountain's bulk. Nervous and pressed for time, very few sailors succeeded in swallowing breakfast before rushing to form ranks upon the deck of Alcarindur.

The steady beat of oars calmed their palpitating hearts as the otherwise silent surroundings fostered an uneasy mood within their breast. Then, upon the still air, they were gradually able to discern sounds – faint at first, but growing until the clamour of battle was distinct and unmistakable. Hands clutched bow grips and sword hilts, thumbs fingered arrow fletching and steel pommels; eyes flickered from bank to bank and around each bend of the Anduin, wary of an ambush – in spite of the scouts' reports – and ever cognizant that each new stretch of river could reveal their final end.

The sounds grew louder: the creak of mast and hull, the splinter of oars, shouts and horns and blade upon blade. It became almost deafening. Then, beyond one final promontory, Harlond appeared on their port side.

The sight Aragorn and the others beheld there confirmed their greatest fears: deep within the harbour, several smaller Gondorian vessels fought valiantly, reinforced by a great many troops upon land; but there was no doubt the Southrons held the upper hand.

'This is not the Corsairs' full fleet!' Aragorn cried over the melee's uproar.

'Perhaps taking Harlond was not so significant to them as we thought,' shouted Éomer in return.

'The bulk of their forces must have continued on to Osgiliath,' said Captain Bardlorn.

'And so too must we go,' Aragorn declared. 'Let only the most necessary number of our ships remain here to ensure Harlond remains under Gondorian control.'

Bardlorn shook his head in disagreement. 'I do not think it a good idea to further divide our already negligible forces. Why do we not lend succour to Harlond as one, then proceed on together?'

'There is little we can do in such a confined space,' Aragorn countered. 'Let us hope it will be enough to trap the Southrons in the harbour. Our far more pressing concern lies with Osgiliath, if that, as it seems, be where their heaviest strike will fall.'

The Captain yielded to Aragorn's determination, though hesitation was written heavily upon his brow. After a few brief signals were exchanged between ships, there came a sounding of Maeron's horn, and the Alcarindur and all save three of her armada forged further along the Anduin. Frantic cries rose up behind them – though there was no distinguishing to whom such cries belonged.

As the Fields of the Pelennor came into view, there was no visible movement across the vast swaths of farms and open grassland. Those Gondorian troops that had remained behind were already entrenched in their positions, whether in defence of Minas Tirith or engaged in conflict within her ports; for in addition to Harlond, the clangour of battle in Osgiliath rose up to meet the northerners' ears as they drew nearer that garrison. The sailors' muscles were taut and their jaws set; the jovial late afternoon sun belied the tense scene which lay below.

The company's progress slowed now; the oarsmen sought to conserve their energy, knowing full well they would be called upon to serve – either as navigators or as swordsmen – once their destination was reached. With each blow upon the chief's pipes, with each pull of the oars, they drew closer and closer to conflict.

Yet Aragorn knew this stretch of Anduin better than any. He bade the fleet halt at a slow curve where the riverbank rose high and trees grew right up to the earthen overhang. There they awaited the final scouts' report.

'Let us not stumble into combat blindly and compound our disadvantages – for even at our full strength we are outmatched by the Corsairs when on water,' said he. 'But amongst our numbers, we have those who fare better even than the Haradrim on land; let us make use of what few advantages we boast.'

Éomer stepped forward at these words, for he knew them to be in reference to the Eorlingas. 'It is true, our Mearas grow restless, and my men are eager to ride them into battle. We know not what circumstances may greet us in Osgiliath, yet surely the horselords will be of more use, were we to disembark and assail the enemy in territory where we are strongest.'

'But let us not be overly hasty,' Captain Bardlorn reasoned. 'Perhaps it is as you say, and an attack from both land and sea will be best, but I would rather we make our decision upon hearing the scouts' report.'

And so the warriors – sailors, soldiers, and Riders alike – sat about in the agonising task of doing nothing, made all the more torturous for action laying so close at hand. Whatever tension the previous days had given rise to was no comparison to the keen suspense that gripped the northern army in those strained moments.

They blessedly did not have long to wait; a tiny scouting vessel soon slipped into view, and its pair of Swan Knights boarded the Alcarindur in a flash. They leapt to attention before Aragorn and the other commanders.

'Osgiliath has fallen, my lords!' declared one.

Whispers flared immediately amongst the sailors, spreading to the other vessels of the fleet more swiftly than a summer wildfire after a drought. Despite the breakneck pace with which they had pursued the Southrons, Osgiliath already lay in enemy hands? Surely fate could not work so steadfastly against them!

'There was no sign of ongoing conflict,' said the second scout. 'The sounds we mistook for battle were nothing more than the Corsairs and Haradrim establishing their position within the garrison. All Gondorians appear to have fled – whither to, we cannot guess.'

'And it seems the Southrons anticipate no counterattack – least not by water – for they have not raised the harbour chains,' the first added. 'Or perhaps they do not know to.'

'It is a small blessing!' said Captain Bardlorn. 'An opening, an opportunity by which we might yet retake Osgiliath – and a fatal miscalculation on the Southrons' part.'

'It is no blessing,' said Aragorn grimly, 'nor any miscalculation. They do not raise the harbour chains because they do not fear our navy. They would rather fight to keep the southern Anduin open than allow any blockade to settle in and prevent their escape.'

'Thus will the best be made of our cavalry,' said Éomer. 'With the Southrons' focus on defence of the river, the main gates of Osgiliath will be susceptible to attack.'

'Let the Rohirrim disembark and make for the western fortifications,' commanded Aragorn, whose own thoughts were of the same ilk. 'From there – If you've the will, Lord Éomer – you might also send a messenger into your lands and muster what forces remain in Rohan; for who can suppose how long this siege may last? We shall require a great many more Men to sustain us.'

'I will go, milord,' Gamhelm offered.

Éomer gave a curt nod of confirmation. 'But make first for Mundburg, and ask that the beacons be lit before you go, so that the Muster may depart all the sooner. When you come amongst our Riders, appraise Elfhelm Marshal of the circumstances; he is even more blind than we.'

'Yes, milord,' said Gamhelm.

'Helm's speed to you, Rider,' said Aragorn, employing the Eorlingas' own turn of phrase. 'As for the rest: those sailors of Dol Amroth shall remain aboard, keeping with them only the necessary crew to man their ships and mount an offence. All other Gondorians will disembark on the eastern riverbank and march upon the gate of Annondû, making use of their knowledge of the garrison's construction. Maeron, I place these men under your command.'

'And you, milord?' asked Bardlorn.

'I shall remain upon the Alcarindur, and lend strength where it is needed most.'

The ship deck leapt into action at this declaration; the plan had been set. King Éomer and his Riders descended belowdecks to retrieve their horses whilst the remainder of the fleet drifted to the eastern shore and allowed the Gondorian warriors – particularly those less adept at sailing – to disembark. Some crews, their numbers too depleted to manoeuvre the larger dromunds, exchanged their vessels for smaller ones; others abandoned their own ships entirely and joined the ranks of another. Even as the last few foot soldiers slipped behind trees or disappeared into the tall grasses of South Ithilien, the chief's flute struck up again, and Gondor's dwindling armada advanced upstream once more.

They sat upon the very precipice of battle. The oarsmen's breath came as one, steady and even, in time with the beat of paddle upon water, closer and closer, nearer and nearer.

A horn cracked in the stillness.

'Forward!' came the cry, accompanied by a second chorus of trumpets; not as any order – for the signal to advance was unmistakable – but as a rousing cry to steel Gondorian hearts.

There, arrayed before the bridge Menelrond, which arched between the southern battlements of Osgiliath, floated the enemy fleet. Haradrim serpents upon their scarlet fields fluttered from the guardhouses and tall towers of the city, joined by the white ship-wheel on the Corsairs' azure.

As the Gondorians looked upon this spectacle in despair, Aragorn raised his voice so that all might hear: 'We come at last to our home – the home which our foes have so vilely sought to wrench from our grasp. But it shall not be given so freely! Far have we come, and long have we been deprived the scent of our gardens, the touch of our loved ones, the sound of their voices – may your desire for such things sustain you, and power your resolve.

'Be not fearful; we have thrashed these Corsairs before, and we shall do so again! With stout heart may you crash upon these foes and show them the strength of no tide may surpass that of Gondorians returned from the sea!'

A chilling roar reverberated all about the Gondorian ships – a wave of unrestrained, guttural shouts born of rage and abandon. Even in the face of Southron warriors streaming across Osgiliath's battlements to uphold their undeserved claim, the northerners did not shy away; they had prepared to surrender their lives in defence of their homes long ago, when conflict first reared up in Pelargir. Now, in witnessing the very thing they had dreaded most, there would be no half-measures or hesitancy.

Yet the Southrons were equally unwilling to forfeit their gains and the promise of a stronger position against their northern neighbour. The instant the Alcarindur and her armada fell upon the Corsair ships, chaos ensued. The air became thick with arrows and the crack of ram upon hull as each side arranged formations, only to be sundered by their opponent.

The Anduin, wide though it was at Osgiliath, simultaneously hindered and rendered aid, both offering protection and stifling movement between its banks. But for all the Gondorians' exertions, the Southron line did not give. From the harbour emerged a stream of reinforcements, allowing exhausted enemy crews to slip back into protected waters and recover while the Gondorians laboured on without rest.

After several failed attempts, the Alcarindur succeeded in driving along the eastern bank and across the oars of a Corsair dromund. All attempts to withdraw into the safety of Osgiliath were met with disjointed shifting from the incapacitated ship. Capitalising on their hard-earned opportunity, the Alcarindur crew drew alongside the enemy dromund and strove to secure their detachments. Southron arrows whistled overhead as Aragorn joined the sailors taking shelter behind the bulwarks as they prepared to board – yet it was not he who led the attack.

'Over!' cried Bardlorn, darting out from behind chests of sand.

The Gondorians loosed a volley and rose up as one, spilling over onto the Corsair deck and drawing their foes into a maelstrom of flashing silver blades. Aragorn too leapt down from the Alcarindur's railing, yet even as he advanced, the enemy tumbled over themselves to fall back; they knew well the blade Andúril, and the spirit which radiated from its bearer, who would not be denied.

Bardlorn likewise found himself lightly opposed, for there were few who could stand before these august leaders of Gondor and not quail. Yet the remainder of the two factions were locked in combat across the blackened decks, neither willing to give a hint of quarter, let alone surrender. Aragorn took advantage of his unassailed prominence to take a position at the prow and turn his bow upon neighbouring enemy dromunds.

Then from the city emerged a terrible black ship, far larger than any that battled then upon the Anduin: a Southron flagship. The enemy dromunds pulled aside to make way for this new arrival. Deep within its belly, Aragorn could see the tell-tale fire burning. Dread sank into the pit of his stomach; that which had wrought so much destruction upon the city of Pelargir – and upon Gondorian ships at the mouth of Harnen – would surely prove beyond destructive in the close confines of Anduin.

The crew of Alcarindur wordlessly retreated to the familiarity of their own ship, casting off from the Corsair dromund without attempting to founder it, so wholly was their attention drawn by this sinister threat. Chests of sand were swiftly opened and swords exchanged for shovels – yet even as the sailors did so, Aragorn spied the glint of Gondorian armour upon the spade of land between the Anduin and Ithilduin. He turned to glimpse a hulking man: one he recognized as having once belonged to the Hidlanders – Blackbramble! The warrior had evaded the Southrons' notice despite his large size, for he was far quieter than many a smaller man – a skill that lingered from his time in the Hidlands.

With a quick signal to Captain Bardlorn, Aragorn threw a rope over the side of Alcarindur and shimmied down into the water, swimming furtively across the short span between boat and bank. Blackbramble dismounted from his horse and slipped down the bank to greet him.

'Milord, it is well to see you!' said Blackbramble, bowing with all proper respect in spite of the tumultuous situation.

'What happened here?' asked Aragorn.

'When first we heard of your victory in Pelargir, we were glad,' Blackbramble began, 'and even when less certain news followed, still our spirit was not dimmed. Thus were we caught entirely unawares when Southrons stormed up the Anduin with a fleet we could not reckon with. Osgiliath's fortifications were yet underdeveloped and the forces to man them insufficient, and though all available reserves poured forth from Minas Tirith, and the White Company led by Prince Faramir lent us succour, we could not withstand the crushing onslaught.'

'I was overzealous, and believed the southern lands' strength to be equally as diminished as our own,' said Aragorn, his voice low. 'We return now to defend lands we perhaps ought never to have left. Tell me, what has become of the residents of Osgiliath and its defenders?'

'All those who could not wield a blade were evacuated to Minas Tirith; those who escorted them are regrouping in that city even now. Others who remained but were overrun fell back to Cair Andros, where we are besieged by a faction of Corsair dromunds. Our wounded take shelter there, and it is my misfortune to report Lord Faramir is amongst their number, having sustained grave injuries.'

Aragorn stifled a grimace. 'With what strength do the Southrons assail that fortress?'

'Five ships, milord, at the time of my leaving.'

Strategies flitted in Aragorn's mind, each promising a hint of victory, only to be dashed by the more powerful shadow of practicality. Pieces shifted across the board of his imagination, then returned to their original place and the sequence begun again as every slight variation he could conjure was accounted for. He gazed out across the battle: black dromunds littering the currents of Anduin more thickly than the fallen leaves of autumn. A red glow began to rise up from the decks of several ships as men scrambled to extinguish streaking flames with sand.

'If we take their northern armada, it will give us the ability to open a line of attack upon all fronts of Osgiliath,' said Aragorn. 'Yet I fear dividing our already meagre forces even further. How many men shelter within the fortifications of Elminas?'

'Some three hundred,' answered Blackbramble. 'But few are as ready for battle as I; most others have not a soldier's mettle – that is the very reason we were forced to retreat when met with the Southrons' initial attack. I do not know whether the additional men is worth the risk of sending your troops to Cair Andros. Lord Faramir sent me with the intention of conveying information, not to beg for aid.'

'It is not only warriors I seek,' said Aragorn. 'I wish also to maximise the impact of our forces while simultaneously minimising the efficacy of theirs. If we succeed in keeping the Southrons penned within the city, not only will they be prevented from discharging their ground forces, the movement of their ships will likewise be smothered. But should Cair Andros fall and Corsairs control the northern stretch of Anduin, they will be able to sustain themselves against a siege far longer; it will be a long, embittered conflict if we allow them to become so entrenched.'

'Then let us hope your machinations are well-laid, and deliver into our hands even the slightest of victories,' said Blackbramble. 'Yet how do you intend to travel the distance? It is near fifteen of leagues from here.'

Aragorn did not have to ponder, for this issue had already been calculated during his tactical contemplations. 'In coming, did you happen to glimpse the Southrons' defences on the opposite side of Osgiliath?'

'Quite clearly, milord,' said Blackbramble. 'They are light, for the full force of their might is focused upon your ships here, or upon Elminas. I do not think they fear attack from the north.'

'Nor should they,' Aragorn murmured, then louder: 'Wait here.'

'Yes, milord.'

There was a great deal to be commended in Blackbramble's unquestioning acceptance of orders, yet Aragorn said nothing. He slipped back into the water and struck out towards the Alcarindur, ascending once more to the ship's main deck.

'What business is this?' Bardlorn hissed as Aragorn darted about in search of grapnels. 'The Corsair flagship lays waste to our pitiful navy and you are galavanting about, swimming in the river—! With all due respect, milord,' he quickly amended.

'Lord Faramir and the others fell back to Cair Andros,' Aragorn replied, taking no mind to the Captain's near-mutinous words – for in the heat of battle, many were spoken that were later regretted. 'The fortress is besieged even now, without sufficient numbers to defend it. The Prince himself is said to be gravely injured.'

'If Elminas falls, no siege we lay will ever be successful,' said Bardlorn, his tone altering in an instant.

'Just so. I will not ask that you lend me many men – we have few sailors as it is. But I propose taking a small company, augmented by warriors from Captain Maeron's ranks, to reinforce Lord Faramir's position. Upon securing the stretch of Anduin between Osgiliath and Cair Andros, I will return and assail the Southrons from the north, thereby alleviating the pressure you face.'

Bardlorn considered a minute, casting a glance at one Corsair dromund that spewed an arc of fire towards Gondor's most prominent ships.

'Very well,' he concluded at last. 'But I can spare no more than three men.'

A moment of stillness passed between the two commanders. Hands upon shoulders transformed into an embrace; for there was no saying when – or if – they would be reunited again.

It was the work of but moments to select three men – adept sailors all, equally lethal on solid ground as on water. One by one, they disappeared overboard, waiting until they were certain to be unobserved by Southrons before striking out towards the eastern riverbank. Aragorn, too, seized several grappling hooks and was gone.